Can you? will you fix it?
by aCoPtIcMaRiNa
Summary: They say even the proudest spirits can be broken .. with love. How about an already broken one? Can love … fix it?
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Coraline, nor do I make any profits from my story. All I own is my OC!

Peace!

* * *

They say even the proudest spirits can be broken .. with love.

How about an already broken one?

Can love … fix it?

 **Chapter 1**

The heavens are crying. At least that's how they seem to me. But …. Are they crying for me or are these just the tears that i can't cry? It doesn't matter anyway, I guess! For nobody seems to notice, and there are those that hide from them tears! So I guess the heavens' tears don't matter any more than mine. I wonder if there are any tears that do matter if even the heavens' don't. Oh well .. guess we arrived.

This is the new home .. or so the parents say. The Pink Palace apartments. I heard tidbits of the conversation between the previous tenant and the parents, the phone was on the table and the sound was high while the mother was typing on her laptop, that's why I heard. The woman -for it was a woman who spoke with a lovely, kind, cheerful voice- kept saying: "Don't worry, it is completely safe for your child, nothing can happen, it's all over". To which, the mother expressed great, fake relief, not bothering to ask what it was that was all over, before she gestured to the stepfather that I was listening, so he came, pulled my hair and dragged me with it to my closet of a room and locked me inside. As usual.

We are moving stuff in now, the clothes' bags and personal gadgets like mobiles and laptops and such, as the movers are moving the furniture in. Though none of these are mine except two almost torn t-shirts and an oversized pair of trousers in a little wearied bag on my shoulders. But the bag is not torn, so it can be shown in public as a bag i favor like most kids my age do because, of course, we have to keep appearances. So i am also wearing borrowed clothes that will be taken away from me once i get another closet of a room, and I am helping move the stuff as though they are mine. The mother is doting on me, saying how a good little girl I am to the owner with the big frizzy hair and kind eyes who received us with a smile, and the stepfather is saying how proud he is to have such a gorgeous stepdaughter. I don't smile and earn a glare from the mother so i show my teeth in the sweetest, fakest smile in the universe, I believe. The glare intensifies, then morphs into a fake giggle excusing my smile as a defect in mentality, saying I am slow and my reactions are exaggerated, earning me a sympathetic look from the man and earning the mother a look of appreciation and admiration at her saying she adores me to bits still, and my smile has long since fallen and I am back to carrying the bags in.

* * *

They entered the house, the owner was gone and the little girl was waiting for what she knew will come. She may be just 8 but her mind was way older than it should be or so her teacher in her old school said. Not to mention "Be friends with your pain"; the advice her daddy gave her before the comfy darkness -as he called it- took him away, though she begged him to take her with him, he told her to stay. And stay she did, and understood, and accepted her life.

"WHY YOU LITTLE UGLY RETARDED BEGGAR OF A DAUGHTER! WERE YOU TRYING TO EMBARRASS US ACTING LIKE A MENTALLY UNSTABLE BITCH? HOW COULD YOU?" screeched the mother at the little girl then slapped her twice causing the girl to fall on the floor. But before she could do anything else the stepfather held the mother's arm back saying: "Honey, Honey, why all the screaming and slapping? Why exhaust yourself? We could always lock her up and give her no food for a day or two! No need for so much effort!"

That made the mother sigh and turn to her husband saying lovingly: "Oh sweetie, thank you so much, what have I ever done to be cursed with this .. this thing?" casting a hateful glance to the now standing girl. She then turned to the girl to spout: "There are no small rooms for you in this house yet, so you will be taking the former tenants' daughter's childhood room till we have the builders make you a little hole to be stashed in, do you understand?" and as always the girl replied with "yes, ma'am". Infuriated by the still strong and unwavering obedience and durability of such a small kid she added: "now get out of my sight before my generosity runs out, and I kill you right this minute"

The girl heard and obeyed, and she scurried to find the room they said was hers till her hole was made, she was not told where it was nor was she described to its contents, yet the 8 year old was far more perceptive than would be expected. She perceived from the stairs that the bedrooms were not on the first floor, so she climbed them, passed by the woman's parents' room first and didn't linger. It was obvious to her little emeralds of eyes that it wasn't the room. So she ran on her emaciated, skinny, little legs to the next room; jet black long hair as dark as a moonless, starless night, floating behind her, as if trying to match her fast pace, because if the parents come, who knows what they might do. And "Mallory", that is her name, the "unfortunate" it means, arrived at a room with a one-person bed with thin columns hanging a roof above it, and shelves seemingly made for toys that she will never have, and she knew that was the room. And as she knows the rules, she sat herself on the ground in the farthest corner of the room after closing the door.

She is not to be a nuisance, not to be seen, not to be heard. And that's exactly what she planned to do.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Coraline, nor do I make any profits from my story. All I own is my OC!

Peace!

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

A new morning of a new day, and The Pearsons were sitting at their table in the kitchen having breakfast. They were having eggs benedict with crispy bacon and fresh toast. But mind .. I said the Pearsons, little Mallory was never a Pearson, she is a Black, like her father. Thus she had no place at said table and was most assuredly not eating the same food or to be precise, was not eating at all. She was sitting on the floor beside said table in said kitchen waiting for said family to finish said breakfast to see if there were any leftovers she could eat, if she was very, very lucky. Since the Pearsons, thin and athletic as they looked, didn't like to have food go to waste, and feeding little unimportant, freakish girls was the most hideous form of wasting. Not to mention they both had very large appetites which they made up for with some exercise and lots of surgeries. So yeah, Mallory was the only one not artificially in shape, though not quite willingly, one might argue.

But Alas the peace was short lived. "knock" "knock" said the door, and suddenly the world had to reform itself, Mallory was picked off the floor, placed onto a chair, a plate so fast made itself a temporary home in front of her, and bits and pieces of the parents' meals made their way onto it, not to mention the strip of bacon suddenly lodged between her lips.

Camouflage done.

The stairs were descended and the door was opened.

* * *

"Hello, I hope we're not intruding" said the beautiful lady at the door followed by a "YO" from her frizzy haired husband, the man from the previous day, as the door was opened.

Of course that was followed by the overly merry and quite fake -if you were to pay attention- " Oh No, not at all, please do come in" from Mr. Pearson and a slightly more jovial but with a spice of barely concealed irritation " We were almost done with breakfast anyway, just trying to feed the little girl is all, oh by the way would you like me to make you some, i make some mean crispy bacon"

Mr. Lovat, the owner -being the stereotypical male in this particular area- almost said yes, if it weren't for a nice, pointed elbow from his fit wife straight into his gut that efficiently silenced both his stomach and mouth.

" Oh no, no, we just had ours, we were just here to say hi since i never got to meet you yesterday, and i heard you have a little girl so i really wanted to say hi to her, see if she is all comfy, and give her this toy too, to put on one of the shelves in my old room .. she will be staying there, won't she? " gushed Mrs Lovat in both a rush to cover up for her husband, and more importantly, get straight to the point. She was honestly a little bit uncomfortable around the Pearsons now that she had seen them in person, something in her gut just won't let her trust them. Especially with the way Mr. Pearson was looking at her, and the glare of pure ire his wife was giving him. No decent human beings would make such expressions.

* * *

Now why don't we take an interlude to know what exactly it was that Mr. Pearson was looking at like a drooling dog.

Mrs. Coraline Lovat, neé Jones, was quite a beautiful, eye fetching, young woman. With the shoulder length dyed blue hair, the sweet, kind brown eyes that somehow were made more beautiful by the peculiar shade of her hair, and the curvy, quite perfectly feminine figure that she took from her mother, not to mention the sweet, partly childish nature ,and adventurous spirit, she made one of the most capturing young woman in her town, not that she actually realised this. One that made many hearts break, and many men groan in disappointment when she married her childhood best friend, the crazy, shortish, frizzy haired mechanical genius, Whyborn Lovat. So of course the empty-head of the Pearson so-called father, couldn't help but float and gawk.

But the reason why we, ourselves, are pausing and gawking too is most assuredly not that. It is actually because this Coraline Lovat, at the tender age of 10, defeated the "Beldam"; who is a spider-like (quite literally) woman that lured kids into her trap of a seemingly perfect world, then convinced them to stay, forever happy with her, only for the meager price of letting her sew buttons into their eyes. Of course, that really wasn't a happy ending. She actually ate up their lives and imprisoned their souls, once they let her sew the buttons. Yet this courageous girl refused to let the Beldam sew the buttons into her eyes, defeated the Beldam in her own game, released the three poor kids' souls that were trapped, rescued her parents whom the Beldam had taken hostage and threw the only key to the little door, situated in the living room, that was the only entrance to the other world, into the deep, old well a little far off the Pink Palace apartments, and ended the reign of terror.

And that in my humble opinion, is a much better reason to stare at the young lady that now thinks that little Mallory should be safe and sound here, but can't help the bothersome feeling of worry that just won't subside.

Not knowing that little Mallory was already trapped in the hands of monsters, and that little Mallory is much more than she, her husband, Mallory's monsters of so called parents, the monster still lurking behind the little door or Mallory herself could ever imagine!

* * *

And that exact same unfortunate Mallory was found in the exact same position on the -temporarily her- chair, with the exact same plate in front of her untouched, with the exact same strip of bacon lodged between her lips, in the exact same kitchen where this camouflage was made, once the Pearsons and the Lovats made it there to see her.

* * *

AN: Thanks to everyone who gave my story a chance, and I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!


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